


Flyboy Alibi

by JakkuCrew (fromstars)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Organized Crime, Pilots, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromstars/pseuds/JakkuCrew
Summary: “I don’thavea criminal record. There must be some kind of mistake.” Poe said quickly.__________I needed to post this before the movie drops. There were hints we would see a complex backstory for the 'golden boy' Poe Dameron. This is what I imagined that backstory would be. There are NO SPOILERS (I didn't want to spoil myself for Poe), this is only my pre-TRoS speculation about my boy Poe Dameron's past. I could be right, though.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still writing chapter two.

The room was small, with only a single headache inducing pool of light cast down in the center of it. A black panel on the other side of the room made it clear the occupants of the room were being watched at all times, but made it less clear who was doing the watching. Aside from the door, there was only one other exit from the room - a narrow vent so high up that it was nearly level with the ceiling. If it was there to keep air circulating, it failed miserably. When he’d been in the room alone it had been uncomfortable but manageable. But once another body had been added to the mix, it became unbearably stuffy. 

There was a heavy shine bouncing back from the smudged black table top before him, and Poe found himself grateful he hadn’t been handcuffed to it. Yet. 

“I promise you, this has all just been a huge misunderstanding,” Poe said, leaning forwards as he addressed the man who’d seated himself on the other side of the table. “I told your intake droid that. Believe me, I want to cooperate completely with the New Republic Defense Forces—,” he continued, trailing off only when the man before him set down his data pad with a firm clip. 

“This is not one of those situations where you talk first, son,” his interrogator said, twisting the data pad around so it faced Poe. “Let’s start with some introductions,” he added, not pausing for Poe to agree. “I’m Commander Tuck Kilvaari, and I oversee the Ranseur squadron. Now, according to the intake report, you—,” Kilvaari said tapping his finger against the tabletop beside his data pad, “—are Poe Dameron. Originally from the moon of Yavin Four, although you left that moon awhile back. Aged twenty-three, only child of two Rebellion heroes, and with quite the burgeoning track record.” Poe’s Republic identification card flickered on the screen. 

“I don’t _have_ a criminal record. There must be some kind of mistake.” Poe said quickly, invoking the annoyed look of the Commander, who pursed his lips tightly, before leaning back into his chair and folding his arms. 

“No, but you’ve got quite the record of avoiding an actual criminal record. Lots of near misses for you in the last few years, combined with a hell of a lot of reckless behavior. Racing on Castilon. Avoiding authorities in Candovant which you explained away as another misunderstanding. No explanation as to what was being misunderstood. Connections to podracing, which has been outlawed—,”

“—that was _never_ proven. I liked collecting old podracer models. I never flew any of them in a race. Collecting is completely legal.” Poe protested. 

Kilvaari ignored him. “And today you’ve finally had those escapes catch up with you. Your intake charges are something. It’s quite the list - smuggling, trade and possession of Spice with intent to sell, criminal conspiracy, destruction of New Republic Naval property, and assault of New Republic military members in space. My Captain says you disabled five ships of his squadron’s ships while you gave them chase. Your spice running days are over.”

“And I’m telling you,” Poe said, holding up his open hands. “I had no idea those were Republic forces when they started shooting at me, and I definitely had no idea that this crew I was transporting was anything other than a totally above board droid supplies and upgrades. I checked the manifest against a random selection of cargo, and I ran the New Republic’s accreditation checks for traders. I did all my due diligence. It was _your_ system who cleared them!” he defended, picking up the data pad to scrutinize the copy of his Republic ID. It was a genuine record, down to the brutally accurate record of his height; unlike the copies his former employers had provided him. 

“I think this is just proof the background check system promoted by the New Republic is easily duped. They probably bought forged identification records, and innocent merchant pilots like me get thrown into the mix,” Poe said. “They even had catalog droids with them - you know, the kinds that display all the latest upgrades and chassis types. How was I supposed to have known they were spice traders?” 

“You were heavily armed for just some droid cargo.” Kilvaari countered. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are still some dangerous parts of the galaxy out there,” Poe said, running a hand through his curls. “Of course the ship was armed. I knew the fastest way to get my clients to their destination could be potentially dangerous. We were going through contested territories full of pirates!” If some of those same pirates also happened to be his employer’s future customers, well, then that was someone else’s problem. He was a runner - no, a _pilot -_ not a dealer. 

Poe didn’t break away from Kilvaari’s unimpressed stare. He sighed. Getting caught by New Republic forces was bound to cut into his work. 

Of course, Poe had made sure he would be lucky any time he took a job over the years. He never asked questions he didn't want the answers to. He hadn’t tried to open up any of the droids to see what their inner compartments might be holding. He knew what he'd find, and so he never looked. He wasn't naive, just aware that he had a better shot getting out of tight spaces than his more entrenched clientele. So long as he kept telling the truth - that he didn’t _really_ know anything for sure - he might still be able to leave. Maybe even pick up more work on Takodana, away from Linth's crew. It would be less exciting work, but it would keep him on the circuit. And then hopefully his next big job wouldn’t end up having a New Republic informant on the team waiting to transmit their location to the Defense Forces. 

“—You’ve seen what some of these pirates can do to an innocent cargo ship. It’s brutal. That’s why Linth put me on this job. She said it was important to have someone who could handle both flying and aiming a blaster in case we were attacked.” Or caught. 

Kilvaari narrowed his watery blue eyes. An edge of exhaustion was beginning to wear into his face, creeping into the tension in his jaw that was visible under graying stubble. Poe knew he didn’t look any better - he’d been left in the room for several hours before anyone but a droid had been in to check on him. He’d considered napping several times while being left alone, but the room was purposefully too uncomfortable for that kind of thing. And even if he’d been able to get comfortable, Poe figured he would’ve still been silently hoping the Republic Defense Forces had been able to collect and account for every ship and officer he’d disabled during the fire fight. 

But no matter how tired either of them were, Kilvaari pressed on. “And Linth chose _you_ , because mommy and daddy let you play Rebel hero growing up? Not because you’ve been marketing yourself on black market circuits as a security pilot for high risk trade? Or something similar?” 

“I—,” Poe began, before he changed tracks. “— _No_. Sure, my dad taught me how to fire a blaster. My mom taught me piloting. I grew up close enough to the Rebellion base on Yavin. So yes, my parents instilled a lot in me, including a desire to protect others." And a guilty conscience after years of getting into trouble on his own. _Hell_. That'd been why he hadn't killed anyone else in the air. "I didn’t offer up my services to the black market, I offered my services as a pilot. People don't care who my parents are as long as I can fly." So what if some of those people he’d flown had been smugglers? The jobs had been thrilling. And they’d given him a way to leave the family ranch, to leave Yavin, to stop only admiring vintage Rebellion supplies and ships in an abandoned base. To _escape_. 

“Honestly, I learned to shoot a blaster mostly because Yavin has a lot of pests that would destroy my dad’s Koyo melon crops. Monkeys, mostly. Huge pain in the ass. Everyone thinks they’re so cute! They eat everything in sight, steal your supplies, and attack people. You ever read any logs from the Yavin Rebellion base? They all mention the monkeys.”  
  
“I see,” Kilvaari said bluntly. “You got hired because you grew up stunning monkeys? None of that seemed unusual to you?”

“No,” Poe said, before tacking on, “— _Sir_. It didn’t. And I really didn’t know those ships were Republic. We started getting shot at without warning.” Not entirely true. “And if I’d known I was working for a smuggling ring, don’t you think I would’ve done more damage?” He'd certainly done it before. But this time...

“But you were okay running the cargo. You knew it would be a risk someone might start firing if you were carrying Spice.” 

“I told you, I had no idea they were transporting anything other than droids. Linth's contact Jannin showed off some of the astromech models they were going to be pushing." Poe began again. "The worst thing I suspected of them was mistreating some of the droids—” 

* * *

  
Outside the interrogation room, Lieutenant Neir addressed the newest arrival to the scene as he stepped in beside her. She hadn’t expected to see her old teacher show up at the New Republic Defense Force Outpost, but now that he was in the room, there was no one else whose opinion she wanted more. 

“What are your thoughts, sir?” she asked, raising a brow as they watched Commander Kilvaari retread the same story, searching for holes. So far, they hadn’t found any. Not that that proved his innocence. It just proved he was good at wasting their time and keeping them running in circles as they tried to narrow in on a Spice ring full of far more dangerous people. 

“How long did you say he’s been here for, again?” 

“A few hours,” she said with a sigh. “We can’t keep him here forever.” Neir added, tapping her fingers against her datapad impatiently. 

Her former mentor held out an open hand. “Let me take a look while I wait for Kilvaari. What did you say his name was again?” 

Neir passed him her datapad. “Name is Poe Dameron. He’s been racing on Castilon, and hiring out on Takodana. Fell into a rough crowd along the spice routes when he left Yavin.” 

“Dameron? As in Kes Dameron? Shara Bey?” he said, scrolling through the report. 

“That’s what it says in the report. Do you know them?” 

“Mm,” he replied. “I can see where he gets it from. His mother was one of the best pilots in the Rebellion,” he said, as Neir glanced over to watch his expression. That was certainly high praise coming from him. But high praise for a man’s mother didn’t mean he wasn’t a criminal. Neir fought to keep her expression neutral. It didn’t work. 

“—I know that face, Neir.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.” She did. She’d lost more than a few sabbac games in the academy because of that face. But rather than sigh, Neir simply folded her arms. 

“I want a chance to speak with him,” he said, looking down at her seriously. 

“Sir—,” Neir protested as she slumped forwards. He’d already made up his mind. “-In the grand scheme of things, we can still nail down Linth and Jannin even if we can’t get this kid. He’s going to be a repeat offender. If we don’t get him now, we’ll find something else another time. Commander Kilvaari is sure of it. Just another nerf herding punk.” 

“Of course,” Wedge Antilles said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “And I’ve never dealt with those before.” 


	2. Chapter 2

A small security camera flickered in the corner of the interrogation room. 

“—My mother always said you could judge a person’s character by how they treated droids. They’re sentient beings! And a pilot’s life can often depend on an astromech,” Poe continued earnestly, watching as the vein in his detainer’s forehead twitched.

“I knew I was going to have to try and liberate the cargo when we landed after I started talking with one of the droids. The little guy didn’t mentioned they were prone to re-wiring any droid who annoyed them. I mean, who the hell threatens a little BeeBee unit with a memory wipe and being scrapped for parts?” he asked, waving his hand outwards. “Which, by the way, I’d like that droid back. I was repairing some dents that Jannin’s people left on its chassis, and honestly, it’s not stolen. I told Linth I’d be wanting a droid from Jannin’s stock as part of my payment anyways. That one was being mistreated by them.” It still made his blood boil to think about it. 

“I think you forget that you’re currently under suspicion of spice trafficking,” Kilvaari cut in, his exasperation rising to the surface, “-and your arrest is imminent.” 

“Look,” Poe said, crossing one leg over the other casually. “I’ve already told you everything I know. Maybe I can get a second opinion? You haven’t actually arrested me, and even then there’d still be a trial.” Maybe even a trial he could avoid by stalling. “I mean, this is the New Republic, after all. I’ll have the same trial as everyone else. The kind of trial my parents fought to ensure would happen—” 

“—That they did,” a third voice said. Startled, Poe looked over at the open interrogation room door. A man in a dark blue military coat stepped through the doorway, the room’s light casting a shine on his silvered hair. The New Guy squeezed beside Kilvaari calmly, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes, but his thin lips pressed into schooled neutrality. “I met Kes Dameron and Shara Bey once upon a time,” he said, placing a hand on Kilvaari’s shoulder in greeting. “—saw some baby holos, even. You got taller.” New Guy closed the door behind him, crowding the room further. 

“I’ve…heard that happens,” Poe replied, furrowing a brow. He looked back at Kilvaari, who hadn’t become any less tense. If anything, he just looked more…resigned. This was interesting. Plenty of people recognized his parents, but not all of them actually knew his parents. And Poe had long since stopped trying to keep up with the extended list of old rebellion friends. And more importantly, he’d finally outgrown having to politely entertain the expectations of anyone who once met him when he was two. 

“Commander, I told Lieutenant Neir I’d be joining your chat with Poe here, while I was around. ” the older man continued. “I heard he was flying under Linth in a spice run.” 

“I was flying for Linth for Jannin’s droid shipment,” Poe corrected, straightening in his chair. “I told the Commander over here already, I did my due diligence, and her merchant accreditation ID passed the scans. Everything checked out.” It had been designed to. 

“Indeed,” Kilvaari said, giving his new accomplice a terse look. “Sir—,” he warned.

“Perhaps my former student here is being a little harsh,” he continued, “It’s not as if they’d put ‘Spice’ on their manifests.”

“Now that,” Poe conceded, “-would have been a problem I could’ve avoided.” 

“And I’m sure you would have,” he said, in a tone that needled under Poe’s skin. Was he being patronized? “You seem like a smart kid.”

_You’re a good kid. Mommy and Daddy were Rebellion Heroes. You were raised right._

_You’re a farm boy with no way out from under that mantle._

_You could just run, and keep on running._

Or he could go home.

Kilvaari ground his teeth looking at his superior, but continued to remain silent. 

Poe, in response, shrugged. “I’m a fast learner. Next time I won’t rely on the New Republic security check system.” 

“There won’t be a next time,” Kilvaari managed, before glaring back at the other commander. He went ignored. 

“Poe, let me give you some advice. Since you’re a fast learner: you don’t have a lot of options here. I trained Kilvaari. I know he’s damn good at his job, and thorough. He’s a steady pilot with a great aim. And he’s dogged. You just happen to be another loose end to tie up, and he can keep you here an entire standard cycle.” 

_And,_ Poe thought bitterly, _it seemed Kilvaari would do it just to prove a point._ “I already told him—,”

“—You didn’t know you were doing anything illegal,” the other man finished. “Not much of an alibi, is it? It might lessen your charges, but you still disabled five New Republic ships instead of heeding transmission warnings to stand down. You can’t try and convince us you didn’t receive the transmissions. Even if you had that BeeBee unit erase the incoming hail records, we’ll still be able to cross-reference the time stamps of what went missing.” 

Poe opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“You’re not going to be able to fly out of this one. Even if we only get you on minor charges, you know no one will hire you after this. You got caught. And you made getting caught a spectacle. No spice runner in their right mind wants a pilot who doesn’t shoot to finish the job. And, even worse, you got caught because of a mole.” 

Poe frowned, realization cascading like ice water down his back. 

“The way I see it is this: if you get off with a light sentence and go back right now, no one will trust you weren’t in on it. You won’t get more jobs. People want pilots who don’t get them caught and arrested, and smugglers want people who get the job done. I think you know that though. You’re not cut out to keep doing this. You have too much of your parents in you,” he said. Poe studied the dirtied smudges of the table before him, as the new commander continued.

“So you could stay here and wait for Kilvaari to figure you out. Let him figure out if he’s going to get you on all the same charges as Linth’s other men, or if he’s going to let you go back and try and do something even more stupid to prove you’re worth hiring. Or, there’s a second option.” 

“What’s that?” Poe said, warily. 

“You leave with me.” 

_“What?”_ Kilvaari hissed.

“I’ll do it.” Poe said, pushing up to his feet. “…What’s the catch?” 

“Commander Antilles, you must be joking—,” 

“I promise you,” Wedge replied with a snort. “I’m not. If you let him go, he’ll be a pain in my ass, and yours, and we won’t have any way to mitigate it. But if he comes with me…”

“Absolutely not.” Kilvaari said, also standing. 

“Antilles?” Poe interjected, belatedly. “ _Wedge_ Antilles?” That was a name he did recognize. 

Well. Fuck. 

“The one and only,” Wedge smiled. “Commander, I think you’ll find I’m right in this case.” 

“I am not letting some punk ass kid get off without so much as a wrist slap because his parents were Rebellion heroes!” 

“Oh, no,” Wedge shrugged. “He’s not getting out of this one that easily. But the solution here is fairly obvious. Let the punishment fit the crime. Only a group of idiots would let a pilot like that walk out and keep causing us problems.” 

“So we put him in jail,” Kilvaari pushed back. 

“I’d like to avoid that,” Poe said, glancing at the closed interrogation room door. 

“Precisely,” Wedge agreed. “As would I.” 

“Commander, Please—” Kilvaari started. 

“—Let’s skip to the part where you become a contributing member of society. Starting with galactic service and some real discipline.” Wedge said, re-opening the door behind him, fresh air rushing in.

“Welcome to the New Republic Defense Forces.” Wedge Antilles said with a silencing look directed at his former student. “You, Poe Dameron, have just been recruited.”


End file.
